Mr. Chang drives us to the Abram's house in his late model van. "Tina's mom has a Prius," he tells me as we walk out to the car. "But, we bought this used a couple of years ago and Liz tells me that I'm murder on cars."
"I don't mind it," I tell him. I like Mr. Chang. ."I drive a POS." Tina's dad laughs. His van isn't so bad. I feel a little awkward riding in a van, since it's a little Mr. Mom, but he rocks it. Sometimes, I wish I could be the DILF on the block. Like a MILF, only you know… male. But, Quinn never gave me that option with Beth.
"Tina and Mike went over already," he explains. "She's been crazy with worry pretty much since Mercedes texted her and said they were going to the ER. But, she stuck with you." I can hear the fatherly pride in his voice. I wish I could hear someone talking about me, or Sarah, … or Ruthie that way. I wish someday I could talk about Beth that way.
Mr. Chang parks his car on the street, in front of a modest two story house. I see Kurt's Navigator across the street, and Matt's van parked in the driveway. A pair of bicycles lean against the side of the house, helmets dutifully hanging from them. Mr. Chang smiles proudly again, at the sight of the black helmet hanging from the dark purple bike.
He leads the way up the front walk to the front door. A serious girl a few years older than Sarah opens the door. She has light brown hair, and big blue eyes like Artie. "Mr. Chang!" She cries, a big smile splitting her face. "Are you here to see Mom, or Tina, or Artie or me?"
He thinks a minute, "Can I come to see all of you?" He asks the little girl, a twinkle in his eyes.
She thinks for a minute, her smile morphing to a serious expression. I can see Artie in her face. I wonder if people saw me when they looked at Ruthie, or when they see Sarah or Beth. "Yes," she says finally. "But, you have to tell me a good fact, first."
Mr. Cheng's expression becomes as serious as the little girl's own. "Did you know that nothing in the universe is ever created or destroyed? It just changes form, Cecy?"
Artie's sister nods. "You told me that last week." There is a hint of a whine in her voice, like she is expecting a new fact.
"How's this then?" Tina's dad asks. "Because nothing is ever created or destroyed, you're made of the same stuff as stars."
Cecy grins and Mr. Chang, and he grins right back. "Okay," she says, finally, "You can come in."
We walk into the hall near the front door of Artie's house. I can see a large kitchen off to my left, and a living room to my right. A staircase with a chair lift led up to the second story. Toward the back of the house, there is a spacious family room with a large TV and a few gaming systems. I don't recognize my beloved N64 among the silvery systems o the shelf.
Cecy leads us down a hall off the living room. "They're in there," she says, moving away. "Don't make him scream this time, please. I have homework to do, Mr. Chang."
Tina's dad smiles. "I'll try not to Cece," he promises. "And, if I do, I'll make Puck gag him first."
Cecy regards me with wide eyes, then nods solemnly and goes off to do her homework. I don't remember having homework at her age, but maybe I just didn't do it.
Mr. Chang knocks on the door, and Tina calls an invitation to enter. We go into the small room.
The first thing I notice is the low bookshelf with the framed certificates along the top. They are written to Arthur Abrams, and go up to third ku. The last date is exactly nine years ago. A framed picture accompanies them: a little kid wearing white pajamas and big glasses. There is no doubt in my mind that its seven or eight year old Artie.
The room is sparsely, but comfortably furnished. A twin bed sits in one corner, a small bedside table next to it. There's a computer desk, a dresser, and two doors leading off to what I can only assume are the closet and bathroom. A pair of guitars and an electric bass lean again one wall, the amp sitting in the corner.
Artie sits on his bed, leaning against pillows. There is a big bandage across his left eye, and his glasses are scratched. His legs stick out in front of him. He wears plaid pajama bottoms and a black t-shirt advertising what I can only assume to be a band. For the first time since I've know him, he wears a beanie on his head. Tina sits next to him, her head resting against his chest. Mercedes has perched in his wheelchair, Quinn, Mike and Kurt brought in chairs from the kitchen.
I look around. "We kicked out Rachel an hour ago," Quinn says quietly, "And Finn, Brittany and Santana all had practice this afternoon." I can hear the note of sadness in her voice. Sometimes, I hear it in my mother's. I wonder if they're sad about what they gave up to have their children… or about what they lost when they gave them up.
Mercedes gets up. "We should probably go, too," she says, looking pointedly at Quinn, Kurt and Mike. I would never admit it, but Mercedes kind of scares me. When we dated, she was into all sorts of kinky stuff… most of which involved me in submissive positions. She's powerful with her attitude, like a big tsunami of Woman. Compared to Mercedes, Quinn was just a little princess, and Santana is a powerful, pleasant friend with benefits. I miss the softness of her curves.
"Quinn should stay," Mr. Chang says with authority. I'm not sure how he knows that she needs to be here, but suddenly I know that she does.
Tina stays by Artie's side. A look passes from father to daughter, but I can't tell if its disapproval, or just disappointment that her daddy is no longer the only man in her life.
I sit in one of the vacated chairs, and wait for someone to say something. Quinn shifts uncomfortably, and studies the pleats in her dress. Tina bites at a hangnail on the base of her thumb. Mr. Chang sits silently. I stare at my feet. Finally, Artie speaks.
"I wish I knew what I did to the Puckerman men in a past life," he says, his voice bitter with irony. "First your dad crashes into our car eight years ago, then you hit me today, on the anniversary of the accident."
R & R, P & TY
